Page 48

K IDAN FLIPPED THROUGH T RADITIONAL M YTHS OF A BYSSI IN THE P HILOSOPHY Tower, waiting for Slen and Yusef. She needed Slen to give up all information regarding the 13th and had brought the Myths book as a way to win her over.

Professor Andreyas had dismissed their current approach to Quadrantism.

The four quadrants of a dranaic produce a paradise, of which the human is a mirror.

They’d tried to understand what, exactly, constituted paradise but failed at every turn. Kidan flicked through stories about heaven and hell in the book. Maybe paradise referred to a higher power. For Yusef, it was creativity, and why he spent four hours every day practicing it.

Kidan stumbled upon a story about the cosmos, the power of a lightning-struck tree serving as a gateway between two worlds. She traced a hand over the illustration at the bottom. It was called the heaven and hell tree, but in Aarac, “heaven and hell” was expressed as a single word—“esat.” In parentheses, it read “fire or water.”

“Heaven and hell… same word,” she said to herself.

The original Dranacti work chose the word “esat,” which Slen took to mean “paradise.” Not just Slen, but everyone who practiced Quadrantism.

Kidan rewrote the phrase but changed “paradise” to “purgatory” and leaned back, stunned.

The four quadrants of a dranaic produce a purgatory, of which the human is a mirror.

When they arrived, Kidan explained her thoughts. “We were translating it wrong. We’re looking at a dranaic’s purgatory.”

Slen immediately took the Myths book.

“That’s not possible,” Yusef said. “A dranaic’s paradise is the balance of the four pillars. Spiritual, mental, physical, and material well-being. When a human mirrors that, they’re in tune with nature, able to produce nature’s wonders.”

Slen studied it quietly, surprise breaking over her face with each new sentence.

“Kidan’s definitely right. How did I miss it?”

Yusef took the book in his charcoal-stained fingers, reading with a frown. “Purgatory. You’re telling me I’ve been using a meditation technique that brings pain?”

Kidan studied his shaking shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I need to go.”

Yusef left. Kidan wanted to go after him, but Slen was talking, close to deciphering this mind-numbing subject.

“It says the human is a mirror of their purgatory. How do we prove that?”

They started brainstorming, tracking back to the clues the professor may have given them.

Slen’s mind ticked away. “What if we have to ask the dranaics? The first task had us compare and choose who should stay in the course, and now we must compare ourselves with dranaics.”

“It’s possible. Someone’s purgatory is personal. The only way to learn about it is to ask.”

Slen was quiet for a couple of seconds. “Yes, and compare it with your own.”

Kidan swallowed roughly. Why was this their task? It was horribly invasive, no less violating than confessing a murder. The other troubling matter was which vampires would even be willing to share, and at what price. She now understood why Professor Andreyas said only one person would graduate.

Kidan’s phone buzzed, a text message from GK.

Please come. Yusef is destroying his room.

She texted back quickly:

Why?

Rufeal Makary was picked as Artist to Watch for the Youth Art Exhibition.

Kidan swore. “Yusef is in trouble. Let’s go.”

Slen remained by the opened books.

“Slen, come on.”

“We don’t have time to waste. I’m going to keep researching.”

Kidan made sure there was no one in the hallway before lowering her voice. “We need to talk about the vampire who dropped Ramyn from the tower.”

Slen froze. “Why?”

“I have a plan. You can trust me.”

“You saved Susenyos. Now the 13th are pissed.” When Kidan tried to protest, Slen cut her off. “Passing is all that matters.”

Kidan swallowed her frustration, staring at Slen’s turned back. When another urgent text came from GK, she hurried out.

The Umil House was located ten minutes from where she was. When she arrived, a housekeeper let her in. Kidan hurried upstairs to Yusef’s room.

A relieved GK opened the door. “Come in.”

Gold and red were woven into the carpet, bedding, and furniture. Yusef, precariously balanced on an open drawer, was struggling with taking one of his charcoal drawings off its nail.

“Yusef?” Kidan called.

He turned, eyes glassy. “I need to start fresh. These are all wrong. I’m heading down the wrong path.”

“Okay, but come down. Let’s talk about it,” Kidan said.

He stayed balanced, looking at the drawing of an older man who shared a resemblance to him. The incredible attention to the wrinkles around his eyes and birthmark on his forehead was impressive. Omar Umil.

“I was wrong, Kidan. Just like I was wrong about Quadrantism. What if I can’t create because I’m maintaining all of nature’s four quadrants? I’m killing myself trying to keep them all in balance when that wasn’t even the point. It’s purgatory. I put myself in hell.”

“What do you mean?” She exchanged a nervous glance with GK.

When Yusef didn’t speak, her worry doubled. He was expressing the off-kilter behavior of his father, just like when Omar Umil asked for that ball of spider’s web.

Yusef’s opened laptop showed the Artist to Watch display, a sun-bright smile plastered on Rufeal Makary as he posed.

The creature inside Kidan uncurled itself. It stretched and elongated its claws at the smell of threat. She lifted the laptop, studying the curve of Rufeal’s upturned mouth. This time, she had no desire to repress herself.

Omar Umil’s rough plea came to her: Protect my son.

Kidan snuck downstairs to the basement while GK comforted Yusef. She found the slightly marked floorboard, five squares from the top left corner as Omar Umil had told her, and pried it open. She hauled the heavy box up and unlocked it. On top were climbing gear, ropes, and spikes. Kidan dug in, fingers reaching and wrapping around the ridges of a horn. Next to it waited a gun with seven cases of bullets. Power flooded her. There was plenty here. Good. She had to prepare for whatever came next.